


Atlas

by escribo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Kavinsky is his own warning, M/M, Prostitution, Protective Ronan Lynch, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, no magic, protective gansey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: Ronan can’t deal with Gansey at the moment. Gansey would either try to be the voice of reason or unintentionally fuel the beat of sudden panic Ronan feels pounding in his ears. Either way, Ronan can only deal with one thing right now and that's finding Adam.Kavinsky offers Adam money for sex and Ronan invites them both to rethink their life choices.





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out where in the timeline this could fit but nope. AU story that fills my need for hurt/comfort because it's been a tough week! Yes, please!
> 
> I chose not to use archive warnings because they seemed a little strident for what I wrote. However, as YMMV, please see notes at the end if forewarned is forearmed.

When Ronan’s phone rings for the fourth time in about as many minutes, he begins to wonder if Declan will actually give up before Ronan gives into temptation and tosses the damn thing out the window. There’s no way he can believe that Ronan would be willing to listen to another lecture about his midterm exams. That Declan has his panties in a twist about Ronan’s grades has never been a reason to answer his phone, especially not on a Friday night when they both know he can be easily cornered after church on Sunday. At the moment, Ronan really doesn't want to hear it again, especially not pushing 90 on the highway out of Henrietta with an ugly blue Nissan 350 dragging behind him.  He lets it go to the voice mailbox that he never checks, just like the others. 

A couple of miles later, a lull in one thumping beat to the next lets him hear the sound of a text notification, which is weird. Declan would have left a three-minute long message, called back, then left another just to annoy him. Gansey texts. Checking his rearview, Ronan digs his phone out and thumbs at the screen to read the message that pops up: **12:14 pick up.** The phone immediately begins to ring again.

“I’m a little busy at the moment, Dick.”

“Is Adam with you?”

Ronan pauses at the tick of worry in Gansey’s voice, unconsciously easing up on the gas just enough that the Nissan comes level with him.  “He’s working tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not there so no.”

“I’m sending you a picture someone just texted me. Tell me it's not him.”

The next text is a photo so blown out that it takes a moment for Ronan to figure out what he's looking at while also keeping his car between the lines.  Passing under a street light, he realizes it’s definitely Adam. His eyes are wide and red in the light of the flash, a smear of blood across his mouth, standing in the shadow of Joseph Kavinsky, who has one arm stretched up as he positioned the phone for the selfie. Kavinsky, eyes bright, holds the fingers of his other hand in a V in front of his mouth, his knuckles bloody, and his tongue hanging out obscenely.

“Ronan?”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Ronan ends the call and lets his phone drop into his lap to make a sharp U-turn, ignoring the bleat of the Nissan's horn. The wheels of the BMW catch in the dirt and grass of the median before he’s swinging in front of an oncoming truck and speeding back the way he came toward Henrietta. His phone rings and a glance shows him it’s Gansey again.  When he doesn’t answer, the ringing stops and a second later there’s another text.

**12:21: pick up!!**

Ronan ignores that, too. He can’t deal with Gansey at the moment. Gansey would either try to be the voice of reason or unintentionally fuel the beat of sudden panic Ronan feels pounding in his ears. Either way, Ronan can only deal with one thing right now and that's finding Adam. Gansey will keep.

Exiting the highway, Ronan slows down to pull off just past a boarded-up gas station onto the shoulder of the road leading into town, and thumbs at his phone to text a new number. 

_12:29 Where are you_

He settles in to wait. 

It's cold for October. When Ronan rolls down his window, he can smell a bite in the air that whispers of frost and someone somewhere near has a wood fire burning. He breathes in deeply. Closing his eyes, he lets himself think of home. Not his room in Monmouth but the Barns as he remembers it. He tries not to think of Adam suddenly without a home this summer when he was forced to choose between Ronan and his dad. Adam has been so furiously trying to hold things together since then that Ronan kind of isn’t surprised that he’s done something insane. 

Potentially insane. 

If Kavinsky’s involved, it’s definitely insane. Ronan has to shut down the small, petulant voice inside his head getting seriously pissed off that Adam hadn’t come to Ronan if he wanted trouble. Time enough to be angry with Adam later. Ronan needs to find him first. 

He gives it another minute, whispering, "Where are you, Adam?" 

A car blows past him and rocks the BMW slightly. Ronan closes his eyes, ignoring his phone as it rings again, the number familiar and unwanted. Instead, he focuses on the slight rumble of his idling engine, the sound of the wind in the trees, and the river running behind them. 

When the call ends, he pulls up the picture again. His eyes linger on Adam looking lost before he tries to decide inside or out? Adam just has a t-shirt on, his arms folded over his thin chest. Cold or pissed? Ronan zooms the picture and decides they’re inside. Kavinsky’s house or Adam's crappy apartment? Or somewhere else altogether?

His phone finally chirps with a new text:

**12:44 Having a quiet night in with friends. You should stop by.**

Ronan tosses his phone onto the passenger seat and takes off again. He’s only been to Kavinsky’s once before but he knows the way. He’s only slightly more cautious as he swings through the middle of town, not keen to be pulled over and waste more time on cops, especially as he noses the BWM onto well-lit streets full of McMansions bunched up together nearer to Aglionby. 

He knows he’s near when he hears the pulse of bass and sees a row of expensive but useless Audis and Hummers, Mustangs and black Mercedes haphazardly pulled up over the grass. There’s only one car in the driveway, though—Kavinsky’s white Evo parked at an angle. Ronan pulls his car up behind it, blocking it in, and leans forward to survey the scene.  

All the lights are on and the doors to the house thrown open wide, boys and music spilling out. Three of them step forward when Ronan opens his door. He looks at their fashionably distressed jeans, collared button-down shirts, trendy Adidas and sneers at them. One of the three tosses down his red plastic cup, its contents spilling into a puddle at his feet, and curls his hands into fists as the music changes and the house shakes. 

Ronan rolls his shoulders back, slams his car door, and walks towards them. He pushes aside his panic over what could be happening to Adam and instead lets anger well up thick as molasses as he pictures the blood smeared on Adam's face and the taunt in Kavinsky's eyes. By the time the boys in front of him stumble off the porch and advance to meet him on the path leading up to the house, Ronan is furious and aching to set fire to something.  The boy in the middle has been in his math classes for the past three years. Ronan doesn’t stop until he’s close enough to smell Swan's heavy cologne mix with the scent of beer and cigarettes, and he thinks, _he’ll do_. “Where’s Kavinsky?”

“None of your goddamned business, Lynch.” Swan's eyes are red-rimmed, his voice slightly slurred but he hasn't lost any of his swagger. He puffs up a bit, attempting to make up in brawn what he lacks in height. The other boys laugh nervously.  

Swan takes another step forward, bumps against Ronan so that they stand chest to chest. "Why don't you get back in your pussy ass car and get the fuck out of here?" 

Swan’s friends exchange a look behind his back and take a step back when Ronan bares his teeth. "I will tear you apart if you don't get the fuck out of my way." 

Swan laughs but the sound stutters. He looks over his shoulder for support from his friends but Ronan doesn't bother to wait to see what they decide. He doesn't have time for posturing. The first punch catches Swan off guard. The second knocks him to his knees. 

"Kavinsky," Ronan says, his voice a monotone, and the other boys take off. 

At his feet, Swan gags slightly and rolls onto his hands and knees, swaying. "Inside, man. Who the fuck knows. I think you broke my nose."

The house is filled with more people drinking, kissing, dancing, fighting, passed out on couches, in corners, sagged in the halls. He sees a girl do a line of coke in the kitchen, another swaying by herself on top of a table, a selfie stick clutched in her hand. He has to push his way through a group of boys—some his age, some much, much younger—screaming along to the music as they hang off each other, more red plastic cups clutched in their hands. Adam is nowhere to be found among them. 

Ronan takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the deep thrumming behind his temples.  It’s quieter up here but not by much. He can still feel the pulse of the bass in his feet but this is clearly not the same party as the mob downstairs. He tries not to look too hard at the couples in the darkened rooms as he pushes open doors and switches on lights. It's easy to ignore their complaints as he moves quickly, relieved and not each time Adam fails to be hidden behind a door.  

Up here the smell of sweat and sex is stronger, overlaid with the earthy scent of weed and the sour stench of vomit, and Ronan still can’t quite believe he’ll find Adam here. It’s too loud, too vulgar for well ordered Adam. He would hate every minute of being here. There’s no way he’s here. It’s probably a joke ( _please let it be a joke_ ), the unfunny kind that ends with Ronan’s fist in Kavinsky’s face. Adam is probably doing whatever it is he does at the trailer factory and will mock Ronan and Gansey both in the morning for falling for photoshop. He’ll have a dozen scientific reasons why the lighting was wrong and the length of the shadows prove that Kavinsky was fucking with them. When he finds him, Kavinsky will probably just roll with laughter at having dragged Ronan here. Probably make a bad joke about Gansey worrying like an old lady. He lets the thought of that build the rage simmering just beneath his skin.

There's only one door left and if Adam isn't there, Ronan isn't sure what he'll do though several options present themselves easily to his mind. He hates them all.  Ronan tries the handle and finds it locked. He barely hesitates as he steps back then lands his foot near the knob. The door swings open, the lock broken and the frame split. It bounces once against the wall as Ronan pushes inside. 

For a moment, it’s like the photo again. Ronan can’t quite figure out what he’s seeing. To start, it’s a lot cleaner than he thought it would be.  An enormous bed takes up the center of the room, made up rather incongruously with a soft, blue comforter in a geometric pattern and a pile of pillows. A huge plasma screen TV, the only source of light, is mounted on the wall across from the bed, showing pornography with the sound off. There’s music here, too, but it’s darker, slower, almost nothing more than a heavy bass line pulsating with the sound of _untz untz untz untz_. It sets his teeth on edge. For the first time, Ronan understands why Gansey hates it so much. 

In the middle of this is Kavinsky, shirtless, sweating, and hunched. It’s Adam, shirtless, flat on his back, his heels pressed into the floor. For a moment, Ronan just watches the familiar pair of dirty work boots slipping on the thick carpet as Adam tries to buck his hips in an attempt to dislodge the weight on top of him. Kavinsky is straddling him, his knees trapping Adam’s arms at his side. One hand is fisted in Adam’s hair, dragging his head to the side so that Kavinsky can maul at Adam’s neck and shoulder, biting or kissing or both. He holds his other hand tight over Adam’s mouth. It takes another moment for either to realize they are not alone anymore. 

When Kavinsky finally looks over his shoulder, it's with a gravedigger's grin. His dark eyes are hooded.  His lips are dark red and shiny, a stringy line of saliva hanging from his chin.  He eases up just enough to show off his work. There's a bite mark on Adam's shoulder, the start of a bruising hickey on his neck, another on his chest. 

Adam blinks open his eyes, gasping slightly for breath and going still, but he doesn't look at Ronan. 

“You are not who I was expecting, babe, but don’t think I’m disappointed.” Kavinsky drags his eyes down Ronan's body and then grins down at Adam. He tugs at Adam's hair then cups his cheek, attempting to push his thumb between unwilling lips. "We’re just getting started but I’m always happy to have an audience. We could even go halfsies if you want.”

Ronan crosses the room in three strides and tackles Kavinsky with a shoulder-to-shoulder hit. Together they roll off Adam and struggle for a moment, hands grappling until Ronan gets on top. Kavinsky barely struggles as Ronan grabs his hair, their bodies a parody of how Ronan had found them except Ronan isn't looking to drag this out. His fist connects with Kavinsky's stomach, his ribs, and then his face once, twice. He's not taking aim but a sickening crack telling them he likely broke something. It's enough.

Ronan pushes to his feet and Kavinsky rolls away from him until he can slump back against the end of the bed. He starts laughing quietly as he slides his hand over his cock, adjusting himself through his tight jeans before he lifts his hand to gingerly touch his fingertips to his face. “Always fucking out of control, man. It's such a goddamned turn on.”

“Shut up,” Ronan tells him and goes to Adam, offering him a hand. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

Adam pushes his hands over his sweaty face and through his hair before he slowly rolls himself onto his side then onto his feet, ignoring Ronan’s outstretched hand. He won’t meet Ronan’s eyes either, which is always a bad sign. Embarrassed or annoyed? Gansey would know in an instant if he was there. Since this summer, it’s been harder for Ronan to tell, mired as he is in his own morass of messy feelings toward Adam. He doesn’t feel bad for punching Adam’s dad and he’s certainly not going to mind kicking Kavinsky’s ass. He just wants Adam to not hate him for trying to protect him.

“Look at that. Not happy about leaving. Probably tired of trying to find Dick’s dick for him.”

“I told you to quit talking.” Ronan catches Adam by his elbow when he staggers a bit, still finding his balance. He wants to put as much space between Adam and Kavinsky as he can but he’s not done yet. Ronan digs his fingers into Adam’s shoulder to steady him and then forces his chin up so he can look at Adam’s eyes. “What did you take?”

“Nothing,” Adam bites out as he jerks his head away. His whole body begins to shake and he closes his eyes against it to breathe heavily through his nose, visibly attempting to get himself under control. 

Ronan waits a moment until Adam seems steadier and then tries to force his voice to sound calmer than he feels. "No pills? Nothing to drink?"

“Nothing!”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine. He fucked up your face and you’re going to have a massive bruise right there.” Ronan digs his finger into the bite on Adam’s shoulder to hear him hiss. “Go get in the fucking car while I take care of things here.”

Adam wraps his bare arms around his chest but shakes his head.  He has to force himself to meet Ronan's eyes but they’re clear when they do. “I’m not walking out of here without you.”

"Now you fucking care what I think."

“I didn’t say I cared. I just don’t want you to get into another fight because I did something stupid."

"Boring!" Kavinsky yells above the music, drawing it out in a singsong. Both Adam and Ronan look down where Kavinsky is still leaning against the foot of the bed.  "Can we skip the chick flick moment and go straight to the part where you two fuck? I can't decide which of you would top and the suspense is killing me."

"C'mon, Lynch. Let's just go."

“No way. He’s not getting a pass for what he did to you.”

“Goddamn right. If we’re not going to fuck then let’s fight.” 

"Fine. You can stay while I beat the shit out of him."

"Ronan, c'mon."

Ronan squares himself off as Kavinsky struggles to get to his feet. He’s holding his ribs, snot and blood and spit streaming from his nose and mouth. "K. said he likes an audience.” 

“Fucking A, man, you know I’ll fight you anytime but don’t look at me like I'm the bad guy here. If I had known he belonged to you, I would have asked nicely for a go. I thought it was the golden boy who was going to have his heart broken when he found out I took his toy.”

“He doesn’t belong to anyone, least of all you.”

“I offered him five Benjamins so he would suck my cock and he took it, so technically I did own him for a little bit.” 

Ronan looks over his shoulder and sees such a devastated look on Adam’s face that Ronan knows it’s not a lie. 

“Not that you want my advice but you’ve got to get your boy in line, man. Show him who's boss, you know? Boys like him want a firm hand. He was practically begging me for it.”  

Ronan dives at Kavinsky again but Adam is quicker this time. He grabs Ronan's arms and pulls them both back. "C'mon. It's not worth it."

"I agree. You’ve really got to work on your technique if you want to charge that much."

This time Adam doesn't stop Ronan when he lunges again for Kavinsky, his attack quick and brutal. Back on the floor at their feet, Kavinsky breathlessly curses and laughs at the same time, dragging himself out of Ronan’s reach before he drops flat onto his back.  

"Seriously though," Kavinsky starts then stops, testing a tooth with the tip of his tongue. "You can keep it, trailer trash. Call me when your boyfriends graduate and leave you back into the dirt where they found you. You won't be so picky then.” 

Adam draws himself up, his eyes shuttering. Ronan watches him, fascinated as he always is when Adam lets his pride takes over. His face is carefully blank as he watches Kavinsky for another moment then digs into his pocket for the wad of bills and drops them on the floor. As he turns to leave the room, he glances over his shoulder at Ronan, and this time Ronan doesn’t need Gansey to interpret the look he sees.

“Is that a no?” Kavinsky asks Adam’s back as he disappears down the hall. “Fucking virgins, man. I love the uptight ones. I thought he was going to cry when I grabbed his dick but I bet he'd be a fucking monster in bed if he’d loosen up."

Ronan grabs Kavinsky by his neck and shakes him once, hard. "Never touch him again. Never say his name. Don't even fucking look in his direction."

"Man, you've got it bad." Ronan is more than aware that Kavinsky isn't wrong. 

Downstairs the party is still raging. It takes Ronan a few minutes to push his way through the mass of bodies and catch up with Adam as he steps outside. He grabs Adam's arm, regretting it when Adam tenses beneath him. Adrenalin is still racing through his veins, though, and he can't let go as he marches them to the car. "What the hell were you doing in there?"

"I think he summed it up pretty well."

"Why?"

"I needed the money."

"Kavinsky?"

"I needed the money."

“What for?”

“Life, dammit. I’m tired of being poor and hungry all the time. I just thought—“

“You’d make time for a third job?”

“It’s my body.”

"And if you’re going to sell yourself then you’re going to do it in the most painful way possible? He's poison, Parrish,” Ronan hisses, gently shaking Adam by his arm as if he could rattle sense into him. “He's a shotgun in a knife fight. Do you understand?"

"I get it."

“Then say it like you actually mean it.”

Adam looks down at his feet, blinking hard. He shivers again as the wind cuts through him. "Can we go?"

"Get in the fucking car.” 

 

They don’t speak while Ronan threads his way back through town and then onto the highway again. Adam looks as though he’s barely holding it together, like he might be sitting right next to Ronan but whatever drove him to Kavinsky in the first place still has a hold on him. Somehow, he feels further away from them than ever. Gansey’s potential disappointment in them both is too much to consider and there’s no way either of them could sink into the refuge of Monmouth at the moment. Ronan is sure he hasn't earned it and Adam wouldn’t accept it so he just drives. Since it's too late to find another challenger, Ronan races himself, trying to let his anger bleed out and think of a way to fix this.  When the bright green reflective sign showing the way to Charleston, West Virginia looms overhead, Ronan checks his speed a bit. His hand trembles when he turns on his signal to merge onto the interstate.  

He drives in silence for another ten miles before he looks over at Adam, still half-dressed, and finds him shaking, his teeth chattering. Without a word, Ronan rolls up his window and turns the heater on full blast. It's a little harder to wrestle himself out of his hoodie and drive but when the car swings a bit into the next lane, Adam quietly reaches out to steady the wheel. Ronan bats his hand away and pushes the sweatshirt into Adam's lap then watches out of the corner of his eye while Adam puts it on. 

Another twenty miles pass in silence and Ronan finds that he's still angry but that his anger might be just another way to describe being sad.  He doesn’t like that realization but once it’s made, he can’t shake it. Grabbing his phone, he texts _I’ve got him_ to Gansey. The phone rings immediately but Ronan drops it into the door pocket without answering. 

Adam brokenly whispers Ronan's name but Ronan isn’t sure whether it’s a question or a plea. Either way, Ronan’s voice sounds just as miserable when he answers. “You shut up. We’re not talking right now either.”

And he drives on hoping he can find some wisdom in the next mile marker.

 

When Ronan finally turns the car back towards Henrietta, Adam is asleep with his head against the passenger window.  He’s pale in the flickering lights of the passing cars and sodium lamps, cast in shadows. It’s been months since Adam had left home but he still carries a haunted look in his lean face. Perhaps he always will. It's a thought that worries Ronan more than he is ready to admit but timing has never been his strong suit.

At the border, Ronan has to stop for gas and to pee. When he gets back in the car, Adam is awake and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He takes the cup of coffee and the granola bars that Ronan offers him without commentary but rolls his eyes when Ronan shows him the keychain he bought that proclaims, _Virginia is for lovers_. Sitting on a picnic table in the grassy lot by the building, they watch the sun rise over the mountains as Adam eats his breakfast and Ronan slowly works his keys one-by-one onto the key ring. 

“Not a night I want a souvenir of,” Adam says as he watches Ronan’s fingers.

Just below the collar of the hoodie, Ronan can see teeth marks in the hickey on Adam’s neck.  “I guess I’ll give Gansey the matching one then.” 

“I didn’t do it to hurt you, either of you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I never thought you did,” Ronan says after letting the silence stretch between them. “I figure you did it to punish yourself and that’s what sucks about it.”

Adam shrugs one shoulder like he isn’t willing to disagree. He crosses his arms on the table and puts his head down, his eyes on the horizon. 

“It’s hard,” he says after a while, too tired to even try to hide his accent.

“What is?”

“Everything.”

“School? Work?”

“That, yeah. Coming up with rent or money for food or choosing between them. Worrying about what happens if I get sick. Knowing my parents never wanted me. Wondering when you and Gansey are going to get tired of me.”

“Never.”

“You say that.”  Adam pries the lid off his empty coffee cup and stuffs the granola wrappers inside then crumples the whole thing into a tight ball in his fist. “He’s been implying that’s what I’m doing for you two, Kavinsky.”

“When?”

“All the time when he catches me by myself.” Adam gets up from the table to toss away the trash and then moves to stand in front of Ronan. The cold air has made his nose red and he pulls the cuffs of Ronan’s sweatshirt over his hands. 

“I know it’s not true, obviously, but he was in my head. I just thought. I don’t know. I know he’s bad news. I was just sick of everything and I literally have no explanation but maybe you’re not wrong. I regretted it pretty much immediately.” Adam scrubs his hands over his face and pushes his finger through his hair. “I hate the thought of Gansey finding out.”

“We don’t have to tell him.” 

“He’ll find out anyway. Kavinsky will tell the whole school.” 

“The fuck he will. He knows better than to fuck with what’s mine.” 

Adam crosses his arms and sinks back down onto the bench at Ronan’s feet. “Then nothing changed. He's always thought that I ‘belong’ to you.”  

Ronan breathes in deeply between clenched teeth and out through his nose. Counts to ten. Does it again. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” 

“I know.”

“If you want to sell your body, fine. It’s yours and I’m not going to fucking shame you for it but we’ve already established that this isn’t what last night was about. The next time you want a piece of jagged glass to rub against, you come to me.” 

“You going to put me in my place like he suggested? Give me a beating to remind me who's in charge?”  

Ronan slides down so that he can sit next to Adam on the bench. He leans his elbows on his knees, buries his head in his hands, and scrubs at his neck, hating the splinter of pain that hitches Adam’s voice. Out on the highway, a tractor rattles past leading a small parade of cars before it turns off into a field and Ronan watches its slow progress before he tries to speak again.

“I will never hurt you, Parrish, no matter how sweetly you ask.”

Adam doesn’t answer, just huffs out a breath.

"You didn’t deserve what your dad did to you or what happened last night.  Don’t go looking for Kavinsky again. Promise me that.”  

“I promise,” Adam says because it’s an easy promise to make. 

“And what I said? About you being mine? That’s what I want, Adam. Not like how you thought.” Ronan laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Kavinsky saw straight through me. Gansey knew exactly what was going to happen when he called me last night. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Sees what?”

“That you’re like. I don’t know. Driving all night. Or being at the Barns.” Adam is silent, his eyes glassy as stares at the side of Ronan’s face until Ronan finally looks at him. He’s gentle as he takes Adam’s face between his hands, caressing Adam's cheeks with his thumbs and fumbles for a way to make his meaning clear. “You’re like the fucking sun rising," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. "You're the best part of me.”

“You can’t want me,” Adam says, his voice breaking. 

“I’ve done nothing but want you since the first time I fucking laid eyes on you." Adam’s squeezes his eyes shut, his face crumpling, and Ronan pulls him closer, presses his lips against Adam’s forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“Stop talking and fucking kiss me.” 

Ronan smiles fast and bright, the sun coming up over the mountain, and Adam doesn’t wait to be kissed first.

**Author's Note:**

> Kavinsky pays Adam for sex, which they don't actually end up having (in any form) but Kavinsky hits Adam, touches him in a way that is unwanted, and restrains him physically. Ronan uses his fists to express how much he doesn't like this. Discussions of child abuse.


End file.
